It's A Family Business
by ko-writes
Summary: One terrifying night at the opera... TW: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Sex, Mild BDSM references, Dark, Drug Use, Gore, Blood, Murder. Martin Crieff/Douglas Richardson, Carolyn Knapp-Shappey/Ian, Herc Shipwright/Simon Crieff, Herc Shipwright/Caitlin Crieff, Martin Crieff/Herc Shipwright.
1. Chapter 1

It all began with the legalisation of organ repossessions.

Herc Shipwright, together with his three young lovers; Simon, Caitlin and Martin; were the world's most powerful group. Herc indulged his lovers frequently, especially Martin who was his prised sweetheart.

Herc was the owner and founder of ; he had cured the globe of the pandemic of organ failures due to mankind's reliance on drink and drugs; but now almost everyone was in debt.

For those who couldn't keep up with their organ payments, he and his lovers would send in Repo Men.

 _Repo man…_

They slashed open their victims, often while breath still filled their lungs, and removed everything. It was bloody work and they were feared, but kept them anonymous to save their personal lives.

* * *

Douglas stepped out of the alleyway he was so fond of with a smirk on his face. He smirked with black painted lips at two of his scantily clad girls before approaching your computer screen. Don't worry; he does it all the time – thinks breaking the fourth wall adds a personal touch.

His long black coat, luckily, didn't drag along the filthy ground that carried the stench of rotting shit and piss, as well as the smell of blood and death that accompanied a new Repo hit.

 _Out from the night, from the mist, steps the figure._

 _No one really knows her name for sure._

A figure in a black leather long coat and apron with lock vinyl gloves that buckled to the coat at the shoulders and a black mask with a glowing visor emerged out of thick fog, looking truly horrific.

 _She stands at five-foot-six, head and shoulders._

He shrugged, knowing how unimpressive her height was, but there was no use saying she was six-foot-six; that was a little unrealistic.

 _Pray she never comes knocking at your door!_

The figure threw away something in their hand that looked suspiciously like an organ, and it made a sickeningly gory squelch as it hit the disgusting floor.

 _Say that you once bought a heart,_

 _Or new corneas,_

Douglas was smirking at you know, as if talking about death was amusing him; or the prospect of your demise, for that matter.

 _But somehow never managed to square away your debts._

 _She won't bother to write or to phone you._

 _She'll just rip the still-beating heart from your chest!_

Two employees threw a newly disembowelled corpse into the truck and drove away to dump them in their final resting place.

 _Repo! Repo!_

Diego ran for all he was worth; banging on doors and pleading for entrance, for sanctuary; but people knew better.

 _Now you could run. You could hide._

 _You could try to._

Douglas was obviously enjoying this. It was amusing to him.

 _But she always has a way of finding you._

 _She will come at your weakest hour,_

 _When no one is around who might rescue you._

Diego ran to the elevator. He'd be safe on higher ground, he was sure!

 _Repo! Repo!_

He pulled down the cover and the lift rose, along with his heartbeat. The beat of his heart, the cause of all this trouble.

 _And none of us are free from this horror,_

 _For many years ago, we all fell in debt._

 _New body parts were needed to perfect our image._

The Repo threw open the cover and seized Diego by the neck, slamming him into the elevator wall.

Diego knew he was a goner.

 _And until our debts are clear,_

The Repo slit his throat cleanly, nothing more than a thin line at first but then crimson blood ran down his neck and stained his shirt, not that he cared about his shirt anymore…

 _We will live in fear of the..._

The Repo let him collapse. He fell on his back, drowning in his own blood.

 _Repo! Repo!_

The Repo slit his shirt open with an extremely sharp blade and quickly set to work.

Diego tried to scream, but all he produced was a wet bubbling sound in the back of his throat.

The Repo pulled his heart out in front of him as his vision began to fade. It was dripping and sticky with gore and ooze.

 _Repo! Repo!_

Diego finally gave up on life.

The Repo pulled the gunge, for lack of a better word, off the heart quickly and looked at it through her blue glowing visor in morbid fascination of her work.


	2. Chapter 2

Herc was sat in his large chair behind his large, black desk. His body guards, two lovely ladies in shorts, fishnet stockings and guns holstered in bulky garters, when to prepare for his journey.

He was getting sicker. He looked so… old. There were bags under the bags under his eyes that were stained purple and his drop in weight had left him with deeper wrinkles than he was used to seeing. At least Martin still fawned over him, even if it was to weasel more surgeries out of him; that boy had a problem.

He picked up his cane – God, he resented that thing – and strode as prideful as he could towards the elevator. When he got in, his bodyguards cocked their guns with practiced speed, and they began the descent through 's skyscraper.

 _Things you see in a graveyard..._

 _Things you see in a graveyard..._

Herc turned to his body guards.

 _Maggots, vermin..._

 _You want the world for nothing._

 _Commence your groveling..._

 _Herc, your king, is dying._

 _Even Herc Shipwright_

 _Cannot prevent this passing._

 _Who will inherit ?_

The elevator dinged it's arrival on the ground floor and Herc stepped out.

 _I'll keep those vultures guessing..._

Arthur was laying in his crisp, white, boring bed, surrounded by plastic. It was an awful existence! For someone who used to be an optimist, used to think everything was brilliant; he now had a very dark view of life in general.

He looked towards his secret door…

 _Things you see in a graveyard_

Arthur was wearing his gasmask and a pair of black skinny jeans with a ruffled shirt and purple jacket. He walked down the secret passage to his secret entrance and exit to his prison – sorry, 'house' – his father's tomb.

 _I'll keep those vultures guessing..._

 _Things you see in a graveyard_

 _I'll keep those vultures guessing!_

Arthur hung his lit torch on the wall and removed his mask. He should really be wearing it – but he had to be able to see and he wouldn't be able with that stupid thing on!

He cautiously opened the last door – the door to _outside_ – and hopped out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Arthur cautiously crept towards the other graves.

 _This will be quick…_

 _It's in my sight…_

Arthur smiled a small smile as he spotted his prize, the glass jar ready in his hand.

 _I'll capture it…_

There were search lights everywhere, throwing him out of sorts.

 _Then run back inside_

 _And be back home in time._

Douglas emerged from the shadows. Arthur didn't notice and he had a job to do.

 ** _Industrialization has crippled the globe_**

Arthur snuck up to the scorpion and trapped it under the jar, making sure not to hurt it.

The loudspeaker above the graveyard decided to make itself known, "Enjoy 's day and night-time formulas of Zydrate…"

Douglas sneered at the large notice on the wall, 'GRAVEROBBERS WILL BE EXECUTED ON SIGHT'; they hadn't got him yet, nor will they ever.

 ** _Nature failed as technology spread._**

Arthur screwed on the jar's lid firmly to make sure it didn't escape; the irony didn't really make it through to him.

"Ask a Gentern if Zydrate is right for you."

Arthur saw a guard out of the corner of his eye and gasped, ducking behind a gravestone.

 ** _And in its wake, a market erected._**

Douglas pushed the heavy stone off the above-ground grave easily; he was an old hand at this.

"Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal."

Douglas dragged the wrapped body out by the linen.

 ** _An entire city built on top of the dead!_**

He dropped the body on the floor with a thump and Arthur gasped again as the head smacked on the dirt in front of him. He came face-to-face with Douglas.

 ** _And you can finance your bones and your kidneys._**

A silver tear collected in Arthur's eye as he checked where the guards were, but dissipated with a blink.

 ** _For every market a submarket grows._**

Douglas shrugged off his shoulder bag as Arthur did his best not to have a panic attack. Did this guy know they could die any second?!

 ** _But best you be punctual with making your payments_**

Douglas removed a blade from his kit. He smirked at Arthur before cutting the wrap.

 ** _Lest it be you on the concrete below_**

He took a needle and gabbed it into the mummified remains' nose.

 ** _It's quick, it's clean, and it's pure._**

He pulled back the plunger and the syringe filled with a glowing blue substance; Arthur covered his mouth with his hands in disgust.

 ** _It could change your life, rest assured._**

Douglas removed the syringe with a yank.

 ** _It's the 21st Century Cure!_**

He showed of the glowing glass vile to Arthur, with all the flare of a magician; he forgot how much fun showing off could be to someone other than a rich little brat.

Douglas rose to his feet, looming over Arthur as the boy crouched one the muddy ground.

 ** _And it's my job, to steal and rob..._**

"Graves!" Douglas howled.

"No! Please, please stop!" Arthur begged, pushing himself to stand

The guards started to swarm and Arthur panicked. He was going to die!

"Grave robbers on premises," one of the guards reported, "I repeat; grave robbers on premises! Lock down! Lock down!"

Douglas grabbed the corpse and slung it over his shoulder, running.

Arthur ran to the door, but it had shut tight and he couldn't open it. "No!" He cried.

"This way, kid," Douglas stage whispered to him, quickly vanishing into the shadows once more.

"Wait!" Arthur called.

Douglas was slamming the corpse's head into a rotting wall when Arthur caught up.

"You're going to get us caught!" The goth boy explained to Douglas, who just huffed a laugh.

The wall gave way and the corpse broke through, even if Douglas still fell through with it. Inside was filled with the bodies of Repo victims.

"Jackpot!" Douglas exclaimed with triumph as Arthur climbed through the newly made hole.

 ** _So why care for these petty obsessions?_**

 ** _Your designer heart still beats with common blood!_**

 ** _And what if you could have genetic perfection,_**

 ** _Would you change who you are, if you could?_**

 ** _'Cause it's quick, it's clean, and it's pure!_**

"No! I shouldn't be here!" Arthur worried.

Douglas stuck the syringe into the dismembered corpse of a woman. Looked like she used to have intestines.

 ** _It could change your life, rest assured._**

Douglas removed the needle, his face bathed in Zydrate glow.

"I have _got_ to get home!" Arthur exclaimed.

 ** _It's the 21st Century Cure!_**

 _This cannot be happening!_

 ** _And it's my job, to steal and rob..._**

Arthur was grabbed by a security guard; he struggled but couldn't get free. He was going to die!

"Graves!" Douglas howled again.

Arthur was surrounded with men with guns! He was going to die! He'd be shot.

As his vision grew dark, he heard one final scream.

"Graves!"


End file.
